


How to Speak Rose

by NummySammiches



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Angst, Excessive Use of Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Language of Flowers, Love at First Sight, M/M, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Progressive Love, florist!harry, kind of, lots of fowers, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:24:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NummySammiches/pseuds/NummySammiches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is that florist on the corner of the street that might enjoy making flower crowns a little too much.</p>
<p>Louis is that boy in town who just so happens to be fluent in the language of flowers. (And he may or may not like to visit that little flower shop on the corner of the street.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lavander

 

The first time Harry spots Louis in the shop, he thinks of a rose. A lavander rose.

_Love at first sight_.

He can't help but stare at the boy, completely enraptured by his delicate features. He scans him up and down over and over again. Over and over again. And he begins to notice little things you aren't supposed to notice of strangers. He notices the bags under his eyes and his hollowed cheeks. He notices the slight slouch in his stature. He notices the dull emotion swimming in the ocean of blue that is his eyes. And he finally notices the way the boy stares intently at the flower before him, gently caressing its petals with slim fingers. And it's those flowers that break him.

Harry realizes just who that boy is.  _Louis Tomlinson._ Everyone in their little town knows him. He's that boy who's always sad. Always alone.

_Don't go near him he's strange. Don't go near him his family's messed up. Don't go near him._

_Near him._ Harry wants to be near him. He wants to be so close that their breaths mingle. So close that they're pressed together. So close that they can feel the soft thrumming of each other's hearts.

Harry wishes those flowers didn't fit him so well.

_Anemone._

_Abandonment, loneliness, forsaken_.


	2. Yellow

 

It's been about a week now and Louis never fails to visit that little flower shop in the corner of the street. It's always the same routine. Walk in. Look around. Find a flower. Leave.

But, the thing is, Louis always manages to pick the flowers with the saddest meanings. Harry wonders if Louis knows this too. If he knows how heart wrenching it is, watching his dismal figure staring so blankly at such melancholic flowers.

Harry watches Louis throughout that whole week. He watches him as he strides into the store each day. He stares at him, studies him and memorizing every part of him. To the crystal blue in his eyes and the soft sweep of his chestnut hair. To the slimness of his figure and the highness of his cheekbones. He wants to take in everything. Every. Little. Thing. He wants to imbed the boy into his mind just in case he doesn't show the next day. That thought worries Harry. What if he really doesn't come the next day? He wouldn't be able to observe the gorgeous boy, wouldn't be able to see him anymore. He has no means whatsoever to contact the boy. Even if he did, why would he? He was probably less than a stranger to Louis- his existence unknown. But he wants to keep looking at Louis. He wants to keep that little bit of contentment with him for just a little longer.

This is what sparks Harry's next move. He decides to take a gamble. If Louis comes by the next day, then he'll talk to him. Walk up and come into actual contact with him. If Louis doesn't visit, then he'll give up. He'll stop being so infatuated and go on with life. He'll give up on these hopeful fantasies.

Harry isn't exactly certain of what he wants to happen at the moment. If he really does go talk to Louis and embarrass himself and the boy would probably never want to come into a fifty meter radius of him again. Either way, it would jeopardize Harry's chance with Louis. Harry decides that he'd prefer the former choice over the latter, though. He'd take the risk if it meant even the slimmest probability of getting just a bit closer to the boy.

◦◌•◌◦◌•◌◦◌•◌◦

When Louis once again walks into the small shop the next day, Harry is overcome with a wave of relief. He thanks whatever God is out there for this glorious occasion.

But then, Harry is swamped with another coil of nervousness.

He really would embarrass himself. It's not even a probability right now. It is most definitely a fact. He will, without a doubt make a fool of himself. But that is not the important matter at hand. His embarrassing of himself is already a constant variable but it is the degree of embarrassment that has him most worried. He was taking his chances anyway and making his way stiffly towards the boy.

With each step he got closer, the more be noticed about the boy. He found things that were impossible to notice when you look from afar- as he was before this moment. He saw the little freckles on his nose- they were so light you'd hardly ever notice but Harry has sharp eyes. He saw that the boy's lovely eyes were not one shade of blue, but many. They were even more beautiful as Harry got closer and closer. Harry thought that they were breathtaking, like the sky and the ocean jumbled together into the most lovely hues and he'd like to look at them forever.

The closer and closer Harry got to Louis, the more angelic he became. Even with such a tired look, he still managed to look absolutely stunning.

Step by step, Harry's meager courage was stripped away. He takes away whatever thanks he gave- he has definitely been cursed. He ended up walking straight pass Louis and to the display of daffodils. Ah, yes the daffodils. How suitable. They seemed to match the definition of the situation Harry had in his head.  _Unrequited love_. He really doesn't think he can do this. Really doesn't think his feelings would ever be reciprocated.

But he doesn't back down anyway. He's come this far- which really isn't all that far but at least it's  _something_ \- and he (probably) won't give up now. He breathes in a shaky breath. In the middle of the process of calming himself down, something catches in his peripheral view. He walks over to the display and snatches up the flower.

Harry once again strides in the direction of Louis. This time, he notices something he didn't before. Today's flower is a marigold. Harry's chest tightens at that.  _Despair_.

Harry continues onward like a soldier marching into war- which he feels like he is (this is like a battlefield to him). He taps the shorter boy on the shoulder when he finally finishes the dreadfully long trip, (it wasn't really that long) startling him.

Startled, Louis jumps a bit, nearly knocking over a pot in the process. "Oops," he mutters.

"Umm." Harry is at a loss for words. He can't even greet the boy properly right now. "Hi," he manages to muster out.

"Did yo-"

Louis was cut off as a yellow rose was shoved in his face. It wasn't necessarily shoved in his face per say, bit it was a little close for his liking (he had to cross his eyes to look at it). For some strange reason, Harry found it adorably endearing. He kept the rose there for a little longer than necessary, before slowly lowering it, giving Louis a clearer view (one that wasn't filled with an almost unidentifiable yellow blur).

Louis raised a brow. "Friendship," he states in a murmur.

Harry grins shyly at that. Louis really did know the meaning of these flowers, and that made it all the more heartrending. "Uh, yeah," he says dumbly.

Louis furrows his eyebrows cutely and cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Be my friend?"

Louis gives a small smile. It was barely a smile- it was merely a twitch of the lips- but Harry would take anything at this point.

"That's quite a strange way to ask someone, isn't it?" Louis says.

Harry flushes a bit but recovers. "Well I'm strange, you're strange, we're all strange. Let's be strange together. Be my friend."

Louis giggles. He reaches his hand up and gently takes the rose from Harry's hand. He looks down at it, caressing it softly and biting his lip. He looks up and smiles. Harry is completely blinded by its dazzling glow.

"You're silly. Okay. I'll be your friend."

If Harry goes home squealing like a little girl, no one has to know.


End file.
